


The Abandoned Chevy

by acrushonesmeralda



Category: Supernatural
Genre: I don't know what happened to Dean, POV Outsider, no
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-15
Updated: 2015-12-15
Packaged: 2018-05-06 22:12:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5432660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acrushonesmeralda/pseuds/acrushonesmeralda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>the staff of a bar notice a gorgeously preserved 1976 Chevy Impala abandoned in the parking lot. Theories abound as to who owns it and what happened to them. They eventually learn who owned it, but even after the car is recovered, they never find out what happened to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Abandoned Chevy

We didn’t realize it for a while; maybe a week. That same car had been parked in that same spot in the bar’s lot for several days, and it wasn’t until I mentioned it to one of the servers that we realized it hadn’t left, that nobody had come to pick it up.

The word spread around the staff, casual at first. _Hey, that Chevy’s been in the lot a while; I wonder who owns it?_ And _That’s a gorgeous car, I wouldn’t just leave it there to rot. Whoever owns it doesn’t deserve it._ And, eventually _Who owns that car? Who would leave that car? Where are they?_ And most chillingly, _Why haven’t they come back?_  


Days passed, then weeks. Stories began to circulate the bar, theories on the classic Chevy’s missing owner. The most popular was _An older man who bought her new when she first came out in ’76, he parked her there, got drunk, walked home, and died of alcohol poisoning or a heart attack and has nobody left to notice that he’s gone._ A couple of the servers backed the idea that the owner was _a young woman, late twenties, early thirties, who inherited the car from her dad, loved it, parked it in the lot while she went for a drink, and then got kidnapped in the lot/murdered and her body hidden._ The chef, who called both those theories “excessively morbid”, was of the idea that the owner was _a young man, who bought the car used from somebody who didn’t know its worth/ inherited it from his dad, and he got arrested for public intoxication and just hasn’t gotten released yet._ Pointing out that you can only be held for 48 hours on such a charge did nothing to diminish the chef’s stubborn support of his theory. He also pointed out that those 48 hours can be spent in a recovery program, and that perhaps the owner had chosen to stay, and had no one to pick up his car for him.

Regardless, we continued to wonder, not taking it especially seriously, until we realized two weeks had gone by. We began to get concerned. We went through the security tapes, looking for the day the car had first shown up, then seeing if we could find the owner.

It turned out the chef was closest. A man, mid-to-late thirties. He entered the bar, got really drunk really fast _(“I remember him!” yelped one of the servers triumphantly. “Really cute, really lonely.”) _and walked out of the bar and out of the camera’s view. Nobody on shift that night remembers anything else.__

A couple days after that, another man shows up, around the same age as the first, but taller by several inches. He’s cute too, in a slightly more puppy-dog fashion. He has long hair down to his collar, and he’s wearing a cheap black suit. I’m on shift tending bar that night, and he flashes an FBI badge at me, but I call him on his haircut (no federal agent could get away with that), and he seems to collapse in on himself. Something about him makes me reluctant to call the cops on him, so I ask him what he was trying to accomplish.

We find out the real story of the Chevy’s owner that night: _a handsome young man, late thirties, inherited the car from his father, who bought it used. He disappeared two weeks ago, and his younger brother has come looking for him. When the chef suggested he went into rehab, his brother laughed bitterly and said that was impossible, that his older brother would never trust himself to a facility that locked him up, even if he wanted help for his alcoholism. There were decades of sadness behind those eyes and in those words. A fucked-up family, if we’d ever seen one._

We showed the younger brother the security footage we’d gleaned, explaining that the owner of the abandoned Chevy had become something of a pet project of ours. The man seemed both surprised and amused by this, but after watching the clips, he said he was grateful. He seemed to have gotten a lead on his brother’s whereabouts, but wouldn’t tell us what he’d noticed in the videos. We went over the tapes again and again, all of us crowding around the computer screen after closing that night, trying to figure out what he’d seen that we hadn’t.

We never did figure it out. All we knew was that at opening the next day, the Chevy was gone. When we went over the security tapes, we saw the long-haired younger brother walk onto the lot, keys in his hand, unlock the car, and drive it away. We never saw either man or the car again, but we still talk about it, passing down the story to new hires, about the 1976 Chevrolet Impala that was abandoned in our parking lot for two and a half weeks.


End file.
